Epitome to Disaster
by White Raven1
Summary: Rated PG13 for Violence and Gore, language warning. An unmarked tanker runs ashore in the straight of Gibralter, and an unmarked container leaks into the sea, which soon comtaminates half of Spain's water supply with a deadly virus... (original characters
1. Default Chapter

The hazy streets of Madrid were warm and inviting, the Spanish culture laid a sense of hospitality on the cobble-stoned pathways and lush green parks, accented at every corner by a beautiful planter of Marigolds or Tulips. Smiling pedestrians dressed lightly and tourists in colorful silk shirts abounded the crowded city streets, a nearby public pool's surface lapped against the ceramic tiling of the side of its basin as another teenager jumped in, the splash erupting over the side and soaking several woman sunbathing in small bikinis.  
  
This was not only one of the busiest, and most wonderful cities in the world, it was also the home of Zachary Heartling, or Zack, as his friends called him. His long, red trench coat flowed out wide as he sat atop a medium-sized building in his residential suburb. The narrow alleyway below was dusty, and wires crossed from one building to the next, like a spider's web. From most of them hung long streamers of loudly-colored silk, leftovers form a festival that had ended not long before. Zack had taken to this part of town, making his home in an abandoned apartment building. He was not rich, though he could have whatever he wanted. Thought his boss back in Italy's (INSERT NAME HERE... COMING LATER) had specifically told Zack to keep a low profile, wherever he went. As his small glasses refracted the July Sunlight, Zack had to squint to make out anything on the beach that lay only about two blocks from his house. The chatter of pedestrians below caught his ear, but he paid no attention- it was none of his business what old Mrs. Renko, the drycleaner, was telling the butcher.  
  
Of course Zack had been told to keep a low profile- so what better way to do so than become part of the local circle? The sun reached its apex overhead and activity died down, it was time to prepare for the afternoon siesta, but being an Englishman at heart, Zack had no use for this. He ducked down the stairs into his lodging and fixed his blonde hair in a mirror caked with grime, and grabbed a pair of black leather gloves from the side of the sink, where they had been placed to air out. The fingers were cut off, revealing only frayed material, and small holes had been cut in the back of them in rows. He quickly exited his bathroom, separated from the rest of his apartment by only a small divider, and grabbed his weapons from a cot in the corner- a pair of long combat knives, two custom-issue Berretta handguns, and a .22 calibur Magnum Revolver. The knives went into his black belt, as the handguns went into a pair of hip holsters. The Revolver went into a shoulder holster, completely invisible beneath his long coat. In its pockets were several more clips for his handguns, and his specialized Darts sent from HQ for his revolver, which was more for transportation and infiltration than for direct combat.  
  
This was now his town, his country. He had to defend them, it was not an option to loose contact with the (INSERT NAME HERE... WILL COME LATER), even though if he did have to force an unexpected move, Zack was certain they could find him. He walked down the now-deserted street, allowing his coat to swing forward, concealing all his weaponry. He quickly knocked three times on the third blue door to his left, then ducked inside before someone saw him.  
  
"Good afternoon, Zachary" A thick British accent cut through the still, humid air in the building.  
  
"Why can't you call me Zack, like everyone else around here?" the agent retorted playfully.  
  
"Because" came the reply with a chuckle "I'm working for you. New news from the base, they're received word that a spread of activity is working its way from South. An unidentified tanker with unmarked cargo ran aground in the Gibraltar. Carlos was just sent to investigate before, he should have a report ready sometime soon. It's nothing you need to worry about"  
  
"Then why, Pray tell, are you explaining this to me?" Zack said irritably "I could be off playing cards, you know. I hate missing cards"  
  
"Yes, yes." A skinny, short man with long, black hair poked his head around a corner but I've nothing else to report. Just be ready for sudden orders from base, they said something was wrong in india, as well."  
  
"That doesn't concern me." Heartling said, spinning on his heel and stepping outside again. His contact, Lucas, was oftentimes too talkative for his own good. Zack opened the door to his own apartment, and sunk down on the cot- perhaps a siesta would be nice today. It had been far too long since he had slept last, anyway. 


	2. Epitome to Disaster 2

Zack awoke with a start in the early morning hours. He had been sleeping peacefully for hours, but scorned himself for making such a stupid mistake. Getting off the small cot, he yawned, stretching his arms and straightening his hair as best he could.  
  
Then it caught his eye- the light on his small pocket communicator, roughly the size of a pager, was blinking a furious green. His gloved hand scooped it from his leather belt, and a feeling of horror washed over him as he read the pair of single-line messages-  
  
12/07/03- Help! They're outside! - Daniel  
  
12/07/03- Where are you, Z? - Daniel  
  
What did Daniel mean, by 'they'? Something was awry, and the agent could not afford to allow anything to happen to his Tech Expert. After a quick weapons check Zack was in the alleyway, which he crossed in a flash.  
  
The interior of Daniel's apartment smelled unusually sweet, like rotting fruit. Zack instinctively drew one of his Berretas as he entered, and ducked into the single main room his partner used to live in. Various instruments lined the shelves and tables, and a computer screen was glowing green at the other end of the room.  
  
"Hello? Daniel, are you ok?" Heartling's voice was only met by more deafening silence, and then- a shuffling sound behind the computer desk, about ten feet away.  
  
"Daniel? Is tha-"  
  
His words were interrupted by a loud moan that filled the room, and a hideous sight that would haunt his sleep for months to come-  
  
Daniel struggled to his feet, but his demeanor had changed- as had his appearance. His clothes were covered with blood, and a hole ran through his stomach. His right hand was missing, and blood was caked on a cracking visage- muscle and sinew pulled under cold, white skin, and his eyes rolled absently in their sockets, already starting to rot away.  
  
In fact, it looked as if Daniel had been... eaten...  
  
Another groan from the carcass and hot lead blazed from the muzzle of Zack's gun. He fired three shots as the Zombie raised his... its dirty fingers, grime caked under the blood-stained nails of the remaining hand.  
  
The shots hit the Zombie's midsection, causing it to buckle over. Zack ran up, slamming the butt of his beretta into the back of the monster's head with a satisfying snap. The threat diminished, the agent quickly moved to the computer.  
  
A chat was open with the Italian Secret Police, on one of the secure connections they possessed. The last message had been sent several hours before, not more than a load of garbage and spam. Yet still, there was a monitor from Headquarters in the room, obviously in case there was a further attempt at contact.  
  
'Zack here. Daniel's dead. What the hell is going on?" The click of keys was the only sound in the room as Heartling started intently at the screen.  
  
"Sorry to hear that. Did you receive word of the freighter crash?" came the reply, almost instantly.  
  
"Yes"  
  
"There was a virus onboard, in an unmarked container. It leaked into Madrid's water supply after infecting half of Spain. Daniel seems to of fallen victim to it."  
  
This took a moment to sink in- the freighter had crashed only hours before, and now it was in the city's water reserve? Even if it could spread from the Gibraltar so fast, what sort of disease could do this?  
  
"Get out of there, now. We'll brief you here. Just leave. NOW."  
  
With that the informant logged off, leaving Zachary alone to his own ponderings for a moment. After a brief look around, he found a customized Automatic Shotgun and several shells for it. Shouldering the gun, he set off towards the door at a brisk jog, but then almost tripped.  
  
Daniel grabbed onto his ankle, trying to bite through the hard leather with his rotting teeth. Zack fired a single more shell at the corpse, but regretted it afterwards-  
  
More cries of death arose from outside, and plague-struck hands smashed through the ground floor windows while still more tripped in the front doorway.  
  
There was only one other way out. 


End file.
